Rose Up From the Dark to Find You
by gothraven89
Summary: It's been eleven months since Bruce watched Clark's burial. The guilt and shame of his own mistakes are eating at him. He comes home after an eventful night as Batman expecting it to be like any other, until someone totally unexpected shows up. Cue the chaos. Slash: Clark/Bruce.


Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to either Batman, Superman, or anything else within the DC universe, it is all owned by DC Comics, the creators, Warner Bros. and what have you. Not making any profit, just writing for enjoyment.

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Warning: Strong sexual content. Apologies in advance if anyone seems OOC.

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Rose Up From the Dark to Find You

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The stillness of the night was shattered by the roar of a high-powered engine and the grinding of the dirt under robust wheel as the Batmobile tore its way through the wooded dirt road.

From where he sat behind the wheel of this formable vehicle, Batman allowed himself a small sigh. It was the end of yet another night of patrolling the ever turbulent streets of Gotham City. Tonight Batman had faced off against Bane, who had been in the midst of trying to take over a local mob boss's criminal enterprise by means of smashing said Mob Boss's head into paste along with anyone else who resisted.

Batman had arrived in time to stop Bane from carrying out his plan, using his vast repertoire of skills to avoid being smashed to a pulp himself and subduing the super villain in the process by first tiring Bane out and then yanking out the tube that connected him to his supply of the Venom serum so that the juggernaut ended up loosing his gargantuan muscles mass and reverted back into the skinny convict he originally was. Batman knocked him out with a single punch to the face before cuffing him, and the mob boss and leaving them for GCPD.

Now he was on his way back to the Batcave. As he turned the corner and headed for the lake, Batman could finally acknowledge what had been nagging him all night.

That feeling of emptiness despite having done a good thing tonight.

Quiet desolation.

It was not a new feeling for Bruce, and if he were honest with himself, this feeling had been plaguing him for a lot longer than just tonight.

Eleven months in fact. Just about a year.

As Bruce maneuvered the Batmobile towards the end of the dirt road and went careening into the lake where the secret door to the Batcave was open and waiting for him, the Dark Knight's mind went unbidden to the events that had unfolded those eleven months ago that left him with this hollowed out feeling to his very soul.

A knock down, drag out brawl.

Poisonous green mist and cruelty.

Ignoring all reason.

Every punch and hit in the rain and through the abandoned building.

A spear of glowing green rock.

A foot pressing mercilessly into a throat and a cut across a cheek.

Martha. Find him, save Martha. Why did you say that name?

It's his mother's name.

A horrifying creature.

A wondrous woman.

Destruction, so much destruction as they all fought the creature together.

The sacrifice, the spear of kryptonite being driven into the creatures heart, the creatures jagged bone driving itself into it's killer's chest in turn. And explosion of blinding light, a ragged scream.

Stillness.

And finally finding him, with his body eagle spread and his clear blue eyes glazed over and unseeing in death.

Bruce willed away the images of Superman... Clark... as he had laid there in the slackened grip of the abomination Lex had created, a bloody hole through his own chest.

It had been eleven months since he had seen the Man of Steel give his life to save the world from Doomsday, eleven months since he had been there to see Martha Kent bury her only son next to her long dead husband. Footing the bill for the funeral had been the least he could do after all the damage he himself had caused in his misguided anger.

As Bruce drove into the gaping mouth of the Batcave's entrance and then into the secret tunnel that led to the main part of the cave, he could not ell but feel a dull twinge in the middle of his chest that had nothing to do with the hits Bane had managed to land on him during their fight earlier that night. Despite everything that he had done, Martha hadn't shunned him, she had forgiven him and asked Bruce to stay in touch with her. It was a request that he had staunchly adhered to, calling Martha a few times a week just to check in with her, visiting her too when he had finally gathered the nerve to visit Clark's grave on his own.

It helped, but didn't chase away the tremendous guilt Bruce felt regarding the man who was now laying in the grave he would visit.

As Bruce pulled the Batmobile into its space in the cave and switched off the engine, Bruce felt the emptiness intensify as he pushed open tne of the overhead doors and climbed out of the vehicle. With a smack groan, Bruce pushed off the cowl of his alter ego and trudged up the stairs to the upper level.

It had been a long night, and unfortunately for Bruce there would be no respite in the form of British gentlemanly company because Alfred not due back from England until tomorrow. He had gone to visit some family. Pennyworth had asked Bruce to come along with him and take a break for a bit, but Bruce had refused, both because he did not wish to impose on Alfred and his family, and because he wanted to keep working, both as Bruce Wayne and as Batman. Busy, busy, busy keeps the thoughts and memories of one of his most epic screw up at bay.

Now though, now there was no distraction from the truth, nothing to stop Bruce from thinking about the man he had misjudged, the guardian of earth he had mistakenly tried to end, and in the end could not save.

Superman... Clark.

Bruce headed for the locker room area and pealed off his armor, placing it back onto the mannequin in its special alcove before he headed for the shower. As he let the near scalding water cascade over him, Bruce found his mind once again assaulted by the images of Superman laying still and silent in death, the hole in his chest weeping crimson and his cape spread under him like a pool already. Bruce groaned softly and bowed his head, pressing his forehead into the expensive shower stall tile. He stopped trying to fight the deluge of memories, and let them consume him under the shower spray. All the aches and pains of his fight with Bane were forgotten as the searing, sharp burn of shame spread through Bruce instead; as it always did these last eleven months.

Once Bruce had washed himself of the dirt a grime from the previous night's patrolling and brawl, he mechanically toweled himself dry and got dressed in a pair of simple gray sweet pants and a black t-shirt before he headed upstairs to the main house. He used the secret elevator and the stepped out through the door hidden behind the bookshelf in the living room.

The glass house by the side of the lake was dimly lit and quiet as Bruce padded across the living room and made his way towards the kitchen. With Alfred gone, Bruce had left over take out to look forward to. At least it was from a good place back in the city.

Bruce had just reached out for the handle on the fridge door when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. In an instant Bruce was on high alert, more than the average person seeing as to how he was Batman.

He turned sharply and took a look behind him, only to find the house still as empty as he expected it to be. Then his eyes turned to the glass walls of the house, and the closed doors that led out to the back patio and pier on the lake.

It was then that Bruce felt his heart speed up as his dark brown eyes gazed outside to the pier, and the tall figure standing there at the start of it, silhouetted by the pale moonlight. Carefully, Bruce stepped away from the fridge and started making his way to the doors that led outside. Uncaring that he was barefoot, Bruce slowly opened the doors and stepped out into the crisp, early morning air.

The figure that stood at the mouth of the pier remained unmoving, shrouded in the darkness. From what Bruce could tell it was a tall man at least, but his face was obscured by the shadows.

" Can I help you sir?" Bruce asked as he took measured steps towards the stranger. He kept his posture relaxed outwardly, all the while gearing up for another fight internally.

The figure remained silent, unmoving, so Bruce continued to speak.

" Look, I don't want any trouble but you are on private property. Just state your business or I'll call the cops." Bruce said, only half meaning it.

Everything was on edge, the tension so thick Bruce could almost feel it against the bare skin of his arms.

Then the stranger moved, taking a halting step forward, stuff that Bruce could only guess as dirt or dust falling softly from the man's shoulders. The stranger took another step forward and then suddenly the porch lights came on, bathing everything in bright light.

Bruce shut his eyes for a second, his hand coming up to shield against the harsh light. Once his blinked a few times and his sight adjusted, Bruce looked back up, his curiosity regarding his late night visitor peaked.

When his dark brown eyes finally fell on the man's face, Bruce felt his knees grow weak as the world seemed to get wrenched right out from under him.

" C-Clark?" Bruce whispered, his eyes wide as his hands fell slack to his side and he gawked.

From where he stood, Clark Kent with his dark hair now shoulder length and an impressive beard and mustache covering half of his face, covered from head to toe in dirt and with the suit he had been buried in torn and ragged on his tall frame, blinked owlishly against the bright light and starred back at Bruce in silence.

There was confusion in his clear blue eyes, an uncertainty on his dirt smeared features as he took another slow, halting step towards Bruce. Bruce in turn stepped forward towards Clark, his feet carrying him seemingly of their own volition seeing as to his mind was currently frozen in shock. Within moments that felt like life-ages of the Earth, Bruce and Clark were standing at arm's length from each other.

They stared at each other for another impossibly long moment before Clark finally parted his lips and spoke.

" Bruce... You're Bruce." He said softly, dazedly almost.

Bruce noted that this was not a question but a statement, and it made something inside him do a strange kind of flip-flop.

" Yeah, that's me." Bruce said with a nod as his eyes took in Clark now that they were closer.

Beneath all the dirt and caked on mud, Clark was white as a sheet. His hair was a tangled mess of dark curls matted with dirt. There was dirt caked under his nails and his suit was torn at one shoulder and along the sleeves. The cloth of the suit was also sporting several large holes due to decay and insect activity. Clark's thick rimmed glasses that he had been buried with were missing.

It didn't need much deductive skill for Bruce to figure out that Clark had just crawled out of his own grave. The very thought that the man before him, who the world as a whole thought was dead, had woken up in the wooden box he'd been buried in eleven months ago and then had to claw his way out left Bruce chilled to his core. But Bruce did not have much time to think about that as Clark suddenly began to sway dangerously, his eyes looking unfocused.

In an instant Bruce rushed forward and grabbed Clark before he could topple over, the feeling of the Kryptonian solid and alive in his hands nearly overwhelming as Bruce half dragged, half carried Clark towards the house. With some maneuvering, Bruce got the door open and hurried Clark inside, the harsh porch light extinguishing once the door shut behind them.

Clark let out a soft groan as Bruce gently deposited him onto the leather sofa in the living room. He sat there hunched over and in a daze as Bruce reached for the small remote on a nearby glass coffee table and turned on the lights, filling the glass house with warm, golden light.

Bruce didn't linger as he rushed off into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with water before hurrying back to Clark. Bruce unceremoniously pressed the glass to Clark's dirt smears lips, the younger man putting up no resistance as he drank the offered water down in just a few gulps, like a man lost in a desert.

Eleven months without water, or food for that matter, and yet from what Bruce could tell there was no visible weight loss and there was only a slight sunken quality to Clark's features under the normal house lights. Bruce caught sight of something moving on Clark's leg and felt something in him crack a little when he saw an insect crawl out of Clark's pant leg over his left knee.

" Let's get you cleaned up." Bruce said quietly as he set the empty glass down on the coffee table and then held out his hand to Clark.

Clark blinked at the offered hand, seeming to contemplate it a moment before he reached out and took it, letting Bruce tug him to his feet. The moment he stood up however, Clark suddenly seemed to cave in on himself with a small groan.

" Clark what is it?" Bruce asked in concern as he gripped Clark's shoulders and watched the younger man press a hand to the center of his chest and grimace.

" H-Hurts." Clark whispered.

Not needing any more prompting, Bruce grabbed Clark and proceeded to all but drag the newly revitalized Man of Steel towards his bedroom. He made Clark sit down on the foot of the bed and then sought out the ratty tied still around the Kryptonian's neck. Bruce tugged it free and tossed it aside before he turned his attention to the buttons of the simple white button up shirt Clark was wearing beneath his suit jacket. Bruce undid a few of the buttons and then pulled the shirt apart so that he could get a good look at Clark's chest.

" Damn." Bruce whispered softly as his eyes beheld the vivid red crescent shaped scar that now adorned the middle of Clark's chest.

The remnant of the "fatal" wound Doomsday had inflicted upon Clark eleven months ago. The wound that Bruce had stitched closed himself once he had brought Clark's body to the Batcave. Diana had in turn taken a heartbroken Martha and Lois to a safe location.

The flesh looked to have knitted together, but Bruce surmised that it had not properly healed since Clark was buried in the cold dark earth, with no sun light to nourish his cells. Bruce reached out and lightly grazed his finger tips over the jagged mark, pulling them back instantly when Clark let out a small hiss at the contact. Pushing back the many powerful emotions swirling inside him, Bruce let logic take over.

It became of blur of Bruce undoing the rest of the buttons of Clark's shirt and then peeling it and the jacket from his still broad shoulders and then all but herding Clark into the bathroom. While a still slightly dazed looking Clark went about showering the dirt and the bugs off of him, Bruce went about getting the necessary items out of the medical kit he kept in the bathroom. About twenty minuted later found a freshly showered Clark sitting on the foot of Bruce's king-sized bed, dressed in a pair of dark gray sweatpants and Bruce's black bathrobe with said billionaire sitting across from him attending to the still tender wound on his chest and back.

Bruce for his part was using a q-tip to gently spread anti-bacterial ointment over the crescent shaped scar. he had already taken care of the exit wound scar on Clark's back, bandaging it and everything, and now he was taking care of the front. Clark watched on in silence as Bruce worked, finishing with the q-tip and then pressing a large square patch of gauze to the scar. Bruce taped the gauze in place, pushing the robe back further and repeating the process on the exit wound on Clark's back before he then pulled the robe closed around Clark.

" Thank you." Clark said quietly as he fidgeted with the material of the robe.

" Don't mention it." Bruce replied before he set the medical kit aside and sat back in the chair he had pulled up.

The two men sat across from each other and let the silence reign. There was so much Bruce wanted to know, wanted to ask his unexpected guest. Instead he refrained and simply took Clark in. With his dark hair falling to his shoulders and a beard over the lower half of his face he looked nothing like the extra-terrestrial super hero of Metropolis, or the mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Planet.

A glance at the bedside alarm clock told Bruce that it was three in the morning now. Deciding that curiosity could wait, Bruce got to his feet and spoke.

" Let me get you some clothes, and then we'll eat." Bruce said simply.

Clark looked up at him and nodded in acknowledgment, his entire expression looking so utterly lost that Bruce felt something inside him lurch painfully. Bruce nodded and then strode off towards his walk-in closet where he quickly fished out a pair of his most luxurious sleeping pants and a plain white t-shirt. He walked back out and wordlessly handed the items to Clark as he spoke.

" I'll be right across in the kitchen, take all the time you need." Bruce said.

Clark nodded and watched Bruce's retreating form as the other man took his leave. Once Bruce was out of sight, Clark stood up and pulled on the sleeping pants first, the feeling of them cool and soothing against his overly sensitive skin. Clark then peeled off the bathrobe, being mindful of the bandages Bruce had placed on his chest and back and he pulled the cotton t-shirt. Once he was dressed, Clark made a b-line for the bathroom and replaced the bathrobe on its hook before he headed out of the bedroom area towards the kitchen.

When his eyes fell on the kitchen he saw Bruce placing two steaming plates of what looked like Chinese stir-fry on the marble kitchen island. Bruce looked up at Clark approach and smiled awkwardly as he spoke.

" I'm sorry, I don't have anything fancy. Alfred isn't back yet so I've been living off of take out." Bruce explained.

Clark just shook his head, his stomach all but aching at the sight of the food before him. Then he blinked in recognition.

" Alfred is your Butler." He said with surety.

" Yes, he is." Bruce said with a nod, and decided to seize the chance as he and Clark sat down.

" What else do you remember?" He asked cautiously.

Clark scratched at his cheek for a moment before he spoke.

" When I woke up in my grave I didn't remember much of anything, I just felt the urge to get out of the darkness. Then once I had crawled out, the only thing I could think of was to come here, to the house by the lake. I was seeing pictures of it in my mind for some reason, like I had flown over it enough times to be familiar with it. Then I was just in the air, making my way to here. It was when you came out and said my name that I remembered that your name was Bruce... and that I'd be safe with you." Clark said quietly.

Bruce felt the bottom of his stomach drop out at this words and did his best to school his features as he gazed back and Clark. Out of everything he expected to hear from Clark, the sheer least of it all was this. Swallowing, Bruce spoke.

" You are safe with me." He said quietly, and meaning it.

Clark smiled and nodded before he continued.

" It's slowly coming back to me, my name is Clark Kent and I am a reporter for the Daily Planet, I am also known as Superman, Kal-El the last survivor of the planet Krypton. My mother's name is Martha and my father's name is Jonathan." Then Clark's eyes widened.

" Oh my God Ma! She's back in Smallville, I left her there!" Clark exclaimed in panic, getting ready to get up and run.

Bruce shot his hand out across the island and grabbed Clark's wrist, halting his movement as he spoke.

" Clark just relax, everything is fine. I can either take you to her or bring her here for you but right now you are in no shape to being going anywhere." He said sternly.

Clark looked mutinous for a moment before he seemed to deflate and nodded. Bruce nodded and let go of Clark as he spoke.

" The food is getting cold, so eat up, and then it's straight to bed." He said, leaving no room for argument.

Clark let out a small sigh before he nodded and picked up the fork Bruce had provided him. Clark barely bit back a grown at the first forkful of food to hit his mouth, and then he was just gobbling down everything on his plate within a few seconds. When another plate was suddenly pushed in front of him, Clark looked up to see Bruce with a knowing look in his face staring back at him. Clark felt his face heat up in embarrassment but accepted the plate that was supposed to be Bruce's. Bruce left Clark eating and went to go fix up another plate with some of the takeout he had left for the next day. He rejoined Clark and they ate together in comfortable, but charged silence.

 _About half an hour later..._

Bruce twisted the hem of his t-shirt absently as he leaned against the glass wall just outside his bedroom, his dark eyes focused solely on his bed and its sleeping occupant.

After they had finished eating, Bruce had put an exhausted Clark to bed despite the young man's protests that he could sleep on the couch. Clark had been out before his head had even hit the pillow. While Bruce had taken up the sofa in the living room after wiping away most of the dirt Clark had inadvertently left on it, sleep had not come so easily for the billionaire and secret vigilante. He had tossed and turned before staring at the ceiling a good solid ten minutes until he had finally gotten up and made his way to where he now stood, observing his unexpected house guest.

There were still so many questions Bruce wanted to ask Clark, so many things he just wanted to say, but Bruce knew that it would not do to overwhelm Clark, especially in his vulnerable state. Instead, as he stood there staring at the newly returned Man of Steel, Bruce decided that the first thing he would do once the hour was not so unGodly was get Martha Kent here are fast as possible.

With that in mind, Bruce pushed himself away from the glass wall and stepped back towards the sofa in the living room to finally get some sleep, all the while not noticing the sleepy clear blue eyes that watched him as he went.

 _A few hours later, with the sun high over the lake and bathing everything in bright light..._

" I've been gone for eleven months?" Clark asked in disbelief as he set a plate with a fluffy omelet and fried crispy bacon down in front of Bruce.

The Kryptonian then took a seat across from the billionaire at the kitchen island in a reverse of how they had shared dinner last night. He had a plate of eggs and bacon waiting in front of him as well.

Bruce looked up from his plate of absolutely scrumptious looking breakfast to nod at Clark. It had taken Bruce aback when he had awoken to find Clark Kent, freshly back from the dead making breakfast for the both of them, looking more like a lumberjack with his long hair and beard instead of the clean-shaven superhero known throughout the world.

Now here they were sharing the morning meal together, discussing the happenings of the aftermath of Clark's not so permanent demise.

" Yeah, and they've been some really long months too." Bruce said as he looked away and began cutting at his omelet.

" Do you know where Lois is Bruce?" Clark asked.

Bruce looked up and spoke.

" Yeah, I've been checking in with her all these months and she's staying strong. She hit it off really will with Diana and they've often been traveling the globe together, seeking stories and thrills."

" That's my girl." Clark said with a smile.

Bruce nodded in agreement, that Lois Lane was indeed one hell of a woman. She had found it in herself to forgive him for the pain he had inflicted on the man she loved, and then had the strength to move forward after burying that same man. Bruce had been the one who felt like he'd been stuck in that moment where he had nearly driven the spear through Clark and murdered a good man. Then when said man had sacrificed his life to stop Lex Luthor's heinous creation, he had stayed stuck in that moment too, wonder what he could have done differently, what he could have done to stop Clark from being stabbed clean through before his very eyes.

Bruce quickly snapped out of his dower thoughts and focused on enjoying Clark really great cooking as he did his best to answer the next questions Clark peppered him with. Once breakfast was done, Bruce suddenly remembered a matter of pressing concern.

" Hey Clark, how's your chest?" Bruce asked.

" It's still a little tender." Clark said, his hand going to the center of his chest before he continued.

" But I think some sunlight might help."

" Well then, eleven months is long enough don't you think?" Bruce said before promptly herding a chuckling Clark towards the doors that let out to the patio and attached pier.

A few minutes later, Bruce and Clark were sitting side by side together at the end of the pier with the bright morning sun bathing them both in warm, gentle light. Bruce did his best not to just gape at the sight of Clark, living, breathing, and almost glowing ethereally as he sat with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, a peaceful expression on his handsome features. Bruce quickly stomped down the warmth that uncurled in his stomach at the sight of Clark.

Bruce felt he had no right. Instead he focused his full attention on Clark's well-being.

" Do you feel better now Clark?" He asked quietly.

Clark blinked his eyes open and turned to Bruce with a smile as he spoke.

" Yeah, the aching in my chest isn't as bad now as it was earlier." Bruce frowned though.

" But it still hurts?" He asked.

Clark nodded. Then a sudden idea struck Bruce.

" What if you need direct contact with the light?" He asked, gesturing to the t-shirt Clark was still wearing.

Clark blinked at Bruce's words, and then without further preamble, reached for the shirt and tugged it off. Bruce felt his face and neck heat up at the sight of Clark shirtless but quickly focused on the bandages that still covered the wounds. Bruce wordlessly gestured to them and Clark nodded in understanding, reaching for the bandage on his chest and pulling it off.

Clark then paused and looked to Bruce.

" Would you mind?" He asked, looking shyly over his shoulder as he presented his back to the older man.

" No problem." Bruce said casually, all the while feeling mouth go dry and his heart pounding in his ears at the trust Clark was showing him.

And yeah, even after eleven months buried underground, Clark's physique was magnificent.

Again, Bruce pushed away those thoughts and instead reached for the gauze pad that was covering the exit wound on Clark's back, gently pulling it off and exposing the tender, jagged scar beneath.

As Clark turned around and the morning light touched the jagged crescent-shaped scar on his chest, the newly resurrected Kryptonian let out a small sigh of quiet contentment.

Bruce watched as before his very eyes, the scars that had been angry red and irritated suddenly paled in hue and looked so much better than when Bruce had first seen them. They didn't fade away completely, but soon resembled the old scars Bruce himself had throughout his own body.

" Thank you Bruce." Clark said, turning to look at the billionaire with warm blue eyes.

" Don't mention it." Bruce said quietly, forcing himself not to avert his gaze as a wave of hot shame washed over him.

He had nearly killed the man sitting across from him, hell he had been the one who had weakened Clark right before, making him breath in that Kryptonite gas before beating him to his enraged heart's content. Then it had been the spear he had created with the largest hunk of Kryptonite that had been humanity's salvation, but Clark's destruction. Bruce had been the one responsible for Clark's demise. He had no right to admire Clark now, to feel Clark's gratitude, to be honored by being the one Clark had sought out when he had broke out of his grave.

Thankfully, Clark finally looked away and gazed out at the calm and serene waters of the lake. Bruce turned away and blinked back a tell-tale burning behind his eyes.

They didn't speak again in the time they spent out there together.

Once Clark deemed that he had had enough sunlight for the time being, he and Bruce headed back inside where Bruce directed Clark to park himself firmly on the sofa and watch TV in the living room while he went about making some necessary phone calls, one to the office saying he wasn't coming into the office, another to one of his driver's and the pilot of his private jet, and another to some people he needed to send to the cemetery where Clark had been buried in to made sure Clark's grave got redone to look like it had not been disturbed. By the end of it Bruce joined Clark on the sofa and informed him with a warm smile that in two hours and fifty minutes, his ma would be here at the lake house to receive the biggest surprise of her life, maybe less if the pilot stepped on it a little.

" Thank you." A visibly emotional Clark whispered before he seized Bruce in a bone-crushing hug, one which Bruce secretly reveled in despite finding it a little difficult to breath.

After that, Bruce found himself smiling genuinely at how Clark could barely keep himself still as Bruce made him a cup of Alfred's best tea. It was while they were sitting together in the kitchen nursing warm mugs in their hands that Clark suddenly spoke.

" What do I say to her when I see her?" He asked softly.

Bruce just shook his head and waited for Clark to meet his dark eyed gaze before he spoke.

" It'll come to you when you see her. Maybe you won't even have to say anything at all." Bruce said in assurance.

Clark smiled shyly at him and nodded.

Now they had to wait, which was the hardest thing to do.

There was so much Bruce wanted to ask Clark, and Clark in turn wanted to know so much from Bruce. Bruce wanted to know what happened, how Clark came back, but the fresh memory of the state Clark had been in when he had materialized at the lake house made Bruce clamp down on his own curiosity. He did not want to dredge up such fresh trauma for Clark, especially after all he had done in the past.

Instead, Bruce took it upon himself to apprise Clark of some of the major events that had taken place in the eleven months since he had been buried, both as Clark Kent and as Superman, with most of the world none the wiser that both were one in the same.

The United States Government had erected a grand monument around Superman's grave, where thousands still flocked to pay their respects. The Government had also issued a formal apology for nuking Superman during the fight with Doomsday. While a small chunk of the world was thrilled that the "alien" was no longer among them, the majority had wept and paid tribute, mourning the loss of their hero and guardian.

Bruce also told Clark in vague terms about Diana and the other extraordinary individuals he had witnessed in files he had stolen from Lex.

The time passed, slowly but surely it passed. Bruce got a call from his driver that Mrs. Kent had landed and was on her way to the lake house. In that time Clark ducked into the bathroom and showered. Surprisingly he didn't shave off his beard or try to trim his hair, leaving him with his rugged look. Bruce was a little disappointed because he honestly wanted to know how Clark, with every inch of him being so indestructible, shaved and cut his hair. Oh well.

Bruce provided Clark with some of his own clothes, a pair of dark blue jeans and a crisp white button up shirt fresh out of the packaging. Bruce himself got dressed in black suit pants and a dark navy blue button-up shirt.

Now they sat side by side in the living room, waiting anxiously for the town car Bruce had sent to his private airstrip. Some ten minutes later, the sound of an approaching car engine had Clark fleeing out of sight into the bedroom area before Bruce could stop him. Most likely Clark just needed some extra moments to compose himself and get ready to reveal to his beloved mother that he was alive.

Bruce didn't begrudge Clark that, a part of him wanting to flee himself rather than face Clark's mother. But as through the glass wall he spied the driver opening the door and Martha Kent emerging from the car looking confused but ultimately ok, Bruce steadied his own nerve and forced his feet to move.

He reached the front door and pulled it open just as Mrs. Kent was approaching with the driver escorting her and carrying her single bag that she brought with her.

" Thank you Benson." Bruce said with a nod.

" You're welcome Mr. Wayne." Benson the driver replied before turning to Martha.

" Ma'am." He said with a nod, earning a warm smile from Mrs. Kent before he took his leave.

Bruce watched Benson's retreating form and as he turned to face Martha he startled slightly when the older woman reached up and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

" While I am still confused as to why you felt the need to fly me all the way to Gotham when its usually you who drops by for a visit, I can't say I am not happy to see you Bruce." Martha said with a smile as she hugged the significantly taller man.

" I am really glad you came Mrs. Kent. Let's go inside so I can explain." Bruce said as he drew away and picked up Martha's bag before offering Clark's mother his arm.

Together they walked into Bruce's home, Bruce feeling his heart pounding clear out of his chest.

Once the door was shut behind them, Bruce led Martha to the living room, his eyes glancing quickly at the bedroom area were he could just make out Clark's arm from where he was hiding around the corner.

" Bruce, what's going on?" Martha asked, noting that Bruce seemed more tense than usual.

" Uh... Mrs. Kent-" Bruce began when Martha huffed and smiled indulgently at Bruce, who ducked his head bashfully.

" Martha." He said, earning a nod from Martha before he finally forced himself to continued.

" Did anything strange happen in Smallville last night?" Bruce asked.

Martha contemplated the question a moment before she nodded.

" Yeah, yeah there was this loud booming noise late last night. It woke me up but I assumed it was just some distant thunder." She explained.

Bruce nodded, his mind already surmising that the sound was not thunder, but Clark breaking free of his cold grave. Taking in a deep breath, Bruce spoke.

" Martha, I am not going to beat around the bush. That sound wasn't lightening Martha, that was... that was Clark." He said.

A jolt seemed to go through the entire house as Martha's eyes grew impossibly wide and her jaw hung open and worked to get sound out.

" Wha-What do you mean by that Bruce?" Martha all but whispered.

Then the sound of slowly shuffling feet caught both Bruce and Martha's ears and they turned their gazes towards the bedroom area where the sound was emanating from. Martha let out a profound gasp at what her eyes were seeing. Bruce for his part stayed silent but proud as he watched Clark, with his clear blue eyes already glistening with unshed tears make his way out of the bedroom and towards them.

" C-Clark?" Martha whispered raggedly as she slowly rose to her feet, Bruce rising with her and making sure she wasn't on the verge of collapse.

Clark stepped closer, his hands twitching like he didn't know what to do, like he wanted to reach out but didn't know if it was right. Martha slowly made her way around the sofa, Bruce following in her wake.

" Clark?" She asked again, her voice louder this time as she inched her way closer.

Mother and son came to stand about arm's length from each other and for what felt like a life age they simply stared at each other, Martha's own weathered eyes growing over-bright as she stared at her resurrected son. Then Clark let out a shuddering breath and finally spoke.

" Ma." He said tremulously as the tears finally broke free.

There was a beat of all encompassing silence and then Martha's tremendous wail shattered it.

" CLARK!" She screamed before she lunged forward and tackled Clark in a hug with such force that it nearly knocked the Kryptonian off his feet.

Clark closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his sobbing mother, burying his face into her shoulder. They drew back a little a few moments later, Martha taking Clark's bearded face into her hands and planting sweet kisses on his cheeks and forehead.

Bruce stood there and watched the joyous reunion, feeling like an intruder. He turned away, preparing to maybe retreat outside and give Martha and Clark some privacy when he was suddenly grabbed by his wrist and pulled forward. Bruce had enough time to realize that it was Martha who had seized him with a surprising amount of strength before he was completely wrapped in warmth. Bruce stiffened up, not used to the contact of not just one, but two people hugging him, but a sobbing Martha had her arm firmly around his neck while a silently crying Clark had his arm around the middle of Bruce's back.

As Martha ran a gentle hand through his hair, Bruce relaxed and relented, raising his arms and holding Martha and Clark back. As he rested his cheek against the top of Martha's head, his eyes met those of tearful clear blue as Clark gave him a crooked little smile and mouthed the words "thank you" to him.

Bruce just mutely nodded, unable to speak as he felt his throat constrict painfully at the maelstrom of emotions currently swirling up inside him.

It took a good long while for Clark and Martha to regain their composure, Martha's sobs and hysterical laughter mingling with Clark's tearful chuckles when his Ma commented on how long his hair was and Bruce's whispers of assurance that yes, this was real, this was really happening.

After that the day became a bit of a blur of Bruce and Clark both explaining to Martha what had happened. Clark explained how he had suddenly just woken up in his coffin, covered in dirt and bugs and then he had clawed his way out. Once he was out he had been so disoriented, the only real thing he could remember was that there was someone named Bruce who lived in a glass house by a lake at the outskirts of a city, that Bruce would help him. Then he had just barreled up into the sky and flown halfway across the country to get to Gotham.

Then Bruce took over, explaining how he had been expecting another night alone at the house after he had finished his patrol of the city and instead had found a totally unexpected guest outside on his patio.

Martha kept running her hand through Clark's longer hair, touching his beard and cupping his face, as if to reassure herself that this was not some mirage, but her beloved son, newly alive again. With a teary grin she then turned to Bruce and spoke.

" Thank you for keeping your promise and bringing me here." She said quietly.

" It was nothing." Bruce said almost instantly, feeling that nagging guilt and shame rear its ugly head again.

" It's everything Bruce." Clark said firmly, giving Bruce a piercing stare with those clear blue eyes. Bruce felt his heart do flip-flops under that sure and unyielding gaze, feeling ever unworthy.

The day passed and once lunch time came around, Martha would here no talk of ordering out from Bruce, insisting on cooking for her boys. Bruce chalked that last part up about "boys" as him just hearing things. Lunch was scrumptious, and so was dinner later on that night where once again, Martha showing off who Clark got his cooking skills from.

Day passed into night and when the hour grew late, Bruce had Clark take his bed yet again while he put Martha up in the guest room. Then under the guise of turning in for the night himself on the sofa, Bruce quickly slid away through the secret door behind the bookshelf in the living room and then down the lift into the bat cave. He suited up with practiced ease and then headed out towards the city in the batmobile. Bruce felt that patrolling and maybe bashing in a few heads might help with his internal turmoil.

Night changed to day once more, Bruce sneaking back in and getting a couple of hours of sleep before he woke up to Martha cooking up a storm in the kitchen with Clark helping her. When he had freshened up and come to join them there was a veritable mountain of breakfast items waiting. One look from Martha told Bruce that he had to dig in or else. Luckily, Clark was there to help him make the mountain disappear.

After the dishes were washed and put away, Bruce took his leave of Clark and Martha with some reluctance and then headed out to pick up a certain British gentleman from the airport.

Alfred Pennyworth just about keeled over when he returned home with Bruce to find a newly resurrected Clark Kent and quietly exuberant Martha Kent waiting with a freshly prepared lunch to greet him.

After the initial shock wore off, Alfred and Martha became an unstoppable force that brought both Bruce and Clark to heel when it came to meals and overall well-being. The Man of Steel and the Dark Knight didn't stand a chance against them.

 _One week later..._

The air was crisp and blew lightly through Bruce's salt and pepper hair as he stood on the tarmac. Today was the inevitable parting of ways and Bruce did his best to remain stoic as he watched Martha and Clark Kent say their goodbyes to Alfred.

A few feet away was Bruce's private jet waiting to take mother and son back to Smallville, Kansas.

" You're the best Alfred." Clark said as he hugged the older man.

Alfred allowed himself a bashful smile as he patted Clark on the back and spoke.

" Think nothing of it Master Clark, just so pleased to have you back." Alfred said as he and Clark drew away, smiling at each other.

Bruce steadied his nerve as Clark and Martha made their way over to him. In an instant, a tearful Martha was stepping forward and enveloping Bruce in a tight hug. They didn't say anything, they didn't need to.

Martha was just so thankful to Bruce for taking care of Clark when he had showed up unexpectedly at the lake house and for reuniting her with Clark. Bruce for his part felt the chasm inside him grow wider as he hugged Martha back lightly, feeling he deserved none of her gratitude or praise. It was because of his foolishness that she had lost Clark in the first place.

When they finally drew away, Martha cupped Bruce's cheek and planted a sweet kiss on the other one before she stepped away, wiping at her eyes. Clark then stepped forward and he and Bruce regarded each other for a moment. Clark was still more or less unrecognizable as the clean-cut reporter, with his beard and his longer hair pulled into a loose ponytail, wearing jeans and a sweater and no jacket since the cold had no effect on him. Bruce himself was dressed casually, but still well put together in black suit pants and a gray button up shirt with his long black, slim fit overcoat.

Then the moment passed and Bruce found himself biting back a smile as he was once again enveloped in warmth.

" Thank you for everything Bruce, I don't think I would be as okay as I am if you hadn't been there." Clark said quietly into Bruce's shoulder.

" It was the least I could do." Bruce replied just as quietly, every single part of him not wanting to let Clark go, but knowing he had no right to keep this extraordinary man.

Clark needed time to adjust, and he needed sunlight to heal. The lake house did get sunlight, but not nearly as mush as the plains of Smallville, Kansas. Besides that, Smallville was Clark's home, not a lake house at the outskirts of Gotham.

Clark for his part felt torn. There was a part of him that wanted to go back home to that farm in Smallville, but another part of him wanted to stay with Bruce at the lake house. But he had to think of his mother, she had been bereft of him for eleven months, almost a year. He needed to be with her, and he needed to call Lois and let her know that he was alive, that he was back. But even at the thought of Lois, Bruce was a constant in his mind. It wasn't just gratitude he felt towards the billionaire/vigilante, but worry for his well-being. It hadn't escaped Clark's notice how quietly happy Bruce had been this past week to have had a motherly presence in his life, and now both that presence and he were leaving Bruce. Alfred was there as always, but Clark felt terrible about it still. Clark held on to Bruce for a few moments longer, wanting to memorize everything about him, from the way his coat felt against his palms, to the faint smell of his cologne, to the way some strands of Bruce's hair brushed against Clark's own cheek because of the light wind. What Clark didn't realize was that Bruce was doing the exact same thing, trying to memorize everything about the Kryptonian.

Then the moment passed and Bruce drew back, Clark helpless to do anything else but to release him.

" My pilot and my driver will make sure you get home safe." Bruce said quietly, suddenly avoiding meeting Clark's gaze.

Clark smiled crookedly and didn't mind Bruce's behavior, he understood.

" Take care Bruce, I'll see you once I get myself together." Clark said as he reached out and gave Bruce's shoulder a light squeeze before withdrawing.

Bruce finally forced himself to meet Clark's blue eyed gaze and nodded stoically. With a final nod of his own, Clark stepped away and walked hand in hand with his mother towards the waiting jet. Martha and Clark both waved at Alfred and Bruce, who each gestured back to them before mother and son disappeared inside and the door was pulled up after them.

Bruce and Alfred stood side by side next to the car and watched as the jet taxied on the runway and them took off, slowly growing smaller and smaller till it was a white spec on the horizon. Ironically carrying away a man who could fly on his own.

The drive away from the private airstrip was made in stoic silence, Bruce behind the wheel with Alfred beside him sending him a subtle, knowing look. Instead of heading back to the lake house, Bruce drive back into the city towards Wayne Tower. He bid farewell to Alfred once they had pulled up in front of the building and headed inside while Alfred had driven home. He made his way up to the top floor and gave cursory nod to his secretary before ducking into his office.

He shrugged off his coat and hung it up before making his way to his desk where there were already some files waiting for his review. It was once he was seating behind the sleek glass desk and opening the first file that Bruce saw his vision blur a little.

A single drop of salt fell free past his eye and carved a trail down his pale cheek. Bruce let out a soft, shaky breath and allowed himself this one moment to not be strong, to fully feel the hollow ache of emptiness in his chest. Bruce bowed his head and closed his eyes. There was another long moment before Bruce's face hardened and he looked up, swiping a hand across his eyes and wiping away the salt. With renewed focus, Bruce went to work reviewing the files before him.

He had work to do.

 _Two months later..._

Bruce allowed a small groan to escape him as he peeled off the bat suit, revealing the vivid and numerous bruises that were starting to form over his skin. He also had some cuts here and there and his knuckles looked like they had been put through a grinder.

It was an apt descriptions since thorns, razor sharp teeth, and rock hard tree trunks had been involved.

Poison Ivy had escaped from Arkham Asylum a few days ago and resurfaced ready to wreak havoc on Gotham with her latest creation.

A giant, walking venus flytrap with actual teeth and these two lone, whip-like vines that had these boulder-sized stumps at the ends of each one. The thing had started pounding through the city and then Bruce had come flying on on the batwing, first shooting at it to get it to follow him to some factory district where it was less populated. Once there he had given control of the aircraft over to Alfred in drone mode while he glided down to the ground in search of Ivy. It had been a vicious fight with Bruce doing his best not to get smashed by the murderous overgrown plant and also to not end up on the receiving end of one of Ivy's fatal kisses while the villainous showed off her own impressive fighting skills.

In the end, Alfred had been able to drop one of the Batwing's fire bombs right into the Venus flytraps mouth, blowing the overgrown weed up from the inside. The destruction of her creation distracted Poison Ivy enough for Batman to knock her out cold. By the end of the night, Poison Ivy was sent packing back to Arkham and the behemoth menace she had created was left as a blazing pile of compost for the Gotham fire department to put out and utilize.

Bruce finished divesting himself of the bat suit and donning a simple pair of dark gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. Groaning lightly at the ache that was setting in, Bruce headed over to the bathroom within the changing alcove and quickly sought out the painkillers. He popped a couple and then headed upstairs.

As he trudged up the stairs to the lift that would take him up to the lake house, Bruce's mind undoubtedly went to a certain other worldly individual. In the two months since Clark had shown up at his doorstep in all his dirt covered and very much alive glory, they had built up a genuine friendship despite the distance. Clark and Martha called Bruce regularly, either together or separately. Clark had gone so far as to turn up at the lake house for unexpected but not unwelcome visits and Bruce himself would take Alfred and himself to Smallville for dinner whenever Martha invited them.

Despite that, Bruce still kept his distance, his guilt and shame burning hot as ever with no ebb. Clark recovered under the Kansas sun, the slight gauntness Bruce had seen when Clark had first come back soon being replaced by a healthy fullness and almost glow. The beard and hair had been tamed to where Clark no longer looked like a lumberjack, but he was still far removed from the clean cut, professional reporter Bruce had first met at Luthor's event. Clark still hadn't returned to the rest of the world as either Clark Kent or Superman, which Bruce could whole-heartedly understand.

These last two week though, Bruce's guilt and regret had been almost unbearable. He had withdrawn completely from Clark and Martha, much to Alfred's protestations. He just couldn't do it right now, he shouldn't have allowed it in the first place. He was a transgressor to both Clark and Martha, but especially Clark.

He had done all he could to _destroy_ the other man, thinking him an alien, a threat, the one who caused so much destruction and death. His hate and his rage had blinded him to everything but his singular purpose, to topple a god.

He had poisoned Clark, beat him, pressed his foot into Clark throat and made him _bleed_. He had done this all with a savage satisfaction that he could hurt, that he could choke, that he could made the Kryptonian crumble at his feet. His foolishness had nearly cost Martha Kent her life. The weapon he had hewn from that accursed green rock had robbed her of Clark, didn't matter that it turned out to be temporarily.

Bruce quickly shook himself out of his melancholic thoughts, and also his yearning as he reached the lift and rode it up to the secret door that led to the house. Once he pushed through the door hidden behind the bookshelf, Bruce stepped into the living room and shut the secret door behind him.

Alfred was probably in the kitchen with a late dinner ready and waiting after such a highly eventful night. Bruce shuffled across the living room into the kitchen, a fleeting smile crossing his face despite his fatigue as his nose caught the delicious smells emanating from within it.

Bruce turned the corner, but he stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes fell on the kitchen area, and just who was doing the cooking.

Alfred looked up from where he was sitting at the kitchen island and looked to Bruce with a serene expression on his face, while at the stove stood Clark Kent cooking up a storm. Dressed casually in jeans and a light gray t-shirt over which was an open, dark blue hoodie.

Clark looked up from the sizzling pan he was tending to and a large, bright smile spread across his face when his eyes fell on a stunned Bruce.

" Hey Bruce." He greeted with a wave of the spatula in his hand.

" Hey Clark." Bruce replied neutrally as he stepped over to the kitchen island and sat down next to Alfred, sending his longtime friend a blistering look for not informing him of Clark's arrival. The look didn't phase the older gentleman in the least.

Bruce turned his attention back to tonights unexpected chef. Despite his quiet apprehension and indignation at Clark's sudden appearance in his kitchen tonight, Bruce could not help but notice how handsome and healthy the Kryptonian looked. His face was lightly stubbled but now his hair was cut to the length Bruce had known. He was even wearing his glasses, looking every bit as ordinary a man as Bruce had seen.

" I hope you don't mind." Clark began, turning again from the dish he was cooking to gaze at Bruce and Alfred.

" Ma kinda went on a baking binge this week." He finished as he gestured to something to Bruce's side.

Bruce and Alfred both looked in said direction and Bruce was slightly surprised to see a covered picnic basket resting on the far edge of the kitsch island. Fighting back a smile and feeling warmth course through him, Bruce reached out and pulled the basket to him and Alfred, pulling back the cover to see Martha's handy work.

" Marvelous." Alfred commented simply with a smile. Bruce had to agree as his eyes beheld all of the muffins, pastries, cakes, and yes, pies that filled the basket.

" This is too much Clark." Bruce said quietly as he looked up in time to see Clark coming towards them with two steaming hot plates in his bare hands, piled high with food. Clark also had the proper utensils grasped between his fingers to boot.

Clark huffed in amusement and shook his head as he set a plate down before each man along with the knives and forks.

" According to Ma it's too little, she wanted to send two baskets but I talked her out of it." He finished.

Alfred chuckled heartily while Bruce shook his head, trying to hide his own smile.

Martha Kent, the epitome of tenacity.

Bruce turned his attention to the plate Clark had set down in front of him. The smell alone had his stomach makings its desire loud and clear, but before him was some good looking chow.

Clark had grilled up chicken breasts with herbs and spices along with vegetables and it looked sumptuous.

" This looks wonderful Master Clark." Alfred said warmly as Clark joined them with his own plate.

" Think nothing of it Alfred, now dig in. Both of you." Clark said, his blue eyes going to Bruce's dark ones.

A look passed between them, they had much to talk about after they had dinner with Alfred.

Dinner passed with Clark wanting details about tonight's extraordinary fight with Poison Ivy. Alfred did most of the regaling while Bruce stayed mostly silent, sullen, though he did tell Clark that dinner was some of the best chicken he'd ever had, no offense to Alfred.

Inevitably, dinner drew to a close. The food was eaten and the dishes were washed by Clark despite Alfred and Bruce's protests.

" The hour is growing late so I shall be turning in. It's wonderful to have you with us Master Clark." Alfred said as he shook hands with Clark. It did not escape the seasoned gentleman that the tension between Bruce and Clark was thick enough to almost see.

Alfred then turned to Bruce.

" Master Bruce." He said simply, reached out and lightly patting Bruce on the arm.

" Goodnight Alfred." Bruce said with a small, genuine smile.

Alfred smiled and moved to leave, but then he paused and leaned closer to Bruce to speak.

" Not to overstep my bounds Master Bruce, but do remember that our guest possesses inordinate strength and this entire house can be considered glassware." He said lowly.

Bruce nodded mutely, his eyes going to Clark who was holding back a smile. Bruce figured the super-hearing was working just fine as Alfred finally stepped away and headed towards the guest house. Before he made his full exit he paused and turned to Bruce and Clark.

" Take care, and goodnight to you both."

" Goodnight Alfred." Bruce called.

" You have a good night Alfred." Clark said in turn.

With a final, lingering look Alfred nodded and took his leave.

The lake house fell silent as Bruce and Clark stood facing each other. The silence was deafening, neither man making a move. It was Bruce who finally broke the impasse.

" Can I get you a drink?" He asked casually, all the while radiating tension and bottled anger.

" No, I am good thanks." Clark said, shuffling from foot to foot as he watched Bruce make his way to the liquor cabinet. Bruce pulled out a bottle of well-aged whiskey and poured himself a glass.

He took a couple of sips, letting the strong alcohol work through him before he turned to Clark and spoke.

" What the Hell are you doing here Clark?" He asked flatly as he gazed at the younger man with hard dark eyes.

" Me and Ma haven't heard from you in two weeks, we got worried." Clark said as he crossed his arms.

" I've been busy, as you saw tonight." Bruce said dismissively as he drained his glass before setting it down and walking passed Clark to stand at the glass wall that overlooked the lake. Inside, his heart was pounding hard. He was so happy to see Clark, but at the same time he wanted him to leave, to go back to sunny Smallville and his loving mother and leave Bruce to his well-deserved self-flagellation.

" To busy to pick up the phone, too busy to come to Smallville when before you would drop everything just to see us?" Clark challenged.

Bruce turned and plastered an ugly smirk onto his face as he spoke.

" Wow, you make it sound like you guys are more important to me than you actually are." He said cruelly.

Clark was silent a moment, Bruce's words hitting him hard.

" Bruce, wha... Why would you say that?" He asked as he stepped closer, looking at Bruce questioningly.

" Because it's the truth." Bruce said smoothly, all the while feeling like his insides were being ripped to shreds.

" No it's not. You're lying." Clark said shaking his head and coming closer.

" Oh and I suppose you know me so well now after just a few months?" Bruce scoffed as he crossed his arms defensively.

" Yes, I do. I can tell just from the way your heart's beating." Clark said quietly, wanting desperately to know why Bruce was behaving this way.

Bruce let out a humorless huff and then nodded.

" Oh I see, that super-hearing of yours. Shoulda known. Well good for you, you're a living lie detector."

" Bruce please, why are you acting like this?" Clark asked softly, genuinely confused and worried as hell.

" There has to be distance between us Clark, I can't afford excessive entanglement." Bruce said simply, defiantly.

" Why Bruce, why does there have to be distance between us? We cleared the air, as far as I am concerned, we're okay, we're friends." Clark said.

" Well I am putting an end to it." Bruce said firmly, all the while feeling his heart splintering to pieces. Then he plastered on one of his patented smirks.

" Besides, you're forgetting, I am Bruce Wayne, I don't do friends."

With that, Bruce stepped away from Clark in dismissal.

" Hey hold on, we aren't done here!" Clark exclaimed as he followed after Bruce.

" Yes we are Clark. I am sorry you had to take all that effort to fly over here, and that your mother went through all the trouble she did, I truly am, but I am done with this conversation." Bruce said vehemently without turning.

" Yeah well I sure as hell am not done Bruce!" Clark declared before he reached out.

" Damn it Bruce stop!" Clark shouted as he grabbed Bruce's arm firmly but gently.

Bruce stopped but refused to face Clark as he spoke.

" Get your hand of me Kent." He growled dangerously.

Clark was undeterred as he stepped around to block Bruce's path.

" What did I do? Please just tell me what did wrong?" Clark asked desperately, his blue eyes shining with confusion and hurt.

It made Bruce want to die right then and there, but he stubbornly refused to back down.

" You didn't do anything Clark, it's just what I want." Bruce said firmly.

" No it's not, so stop lying to me Bruce and tell me why." Clark demanded.

" There's nothing to discuss Clark, so please just go." Bruce said shrugging off Clark's hand.

He only got a few steps before Clark was suddenly right there in his way, having utilized his super-speed.

" I am not going anywhere Bruce." He declared, deathly serious.

Bruce was about to make another sarcastic retort when an unyielding arm suddenly lashed out and seized him by the waist. He had enough time to let out half a startled gasp before he was thoroughly silenced by a mouth sealing itself over his own in a searing kiss. Bruce felt his entire body come alive, as if he were touching an electric current. With a soft groan he melted against Clark and kissed his back, reveling in the sheer perfection of Clark's mouth against his own. He was just about to lose himself in all of the sensations when his heart slammed to a stop in his chest and he grew utterly and completely cold inside. With a muffled shout, Bruce pulled away from Clark and wrenched himself clean out of the other man's arms.

" What the Hell Clark?!" Bruce yelled, outrage written across his entire face.

" I-I'm sorry, I just thought... No, no I shouldn't have... Of course you aren't into men." Clark stuttered.

Bruce shook his head and growled in frustration as he spoke.

" I am not having some heterosexual freak out. Men are fine, but you've told Lois that you're alive haven't you, so what the hell are you doing kissing _me_ man?" Bruce demanded.

Comprehension dawned on Clark's face as he stepped closer to Bruce with his hands held out to the older man.

" Yeah, Lois knows that I am alive and she and Diana even came to Smallville to see me, but Bruce, me and her aren't together." Clark explained with a sad smile.

" She moved on, and she and Diana aren't stopping their travels anytime soon. They're in Morocco right now."

Bruce blinked and mulled over this new information for a moment before nodding.

" Okay, that's good, but that still doesn't explain why you just up and kissed me Clark." Bruce said flatly.

Bruce watched, slightly stunned as a shy, but genuine smile turned up the corners of Clark's lips as he spoke.

" Well obviously because I wanted to kiss you Bruce, I've wanted to for a while." Clark confessed.

Bruce's eyes grew wide as he was thrown well and truly for a loop.

" You what? Why would you..." Bruce trailed off, at a complete loss for what to say and what to do.

" Why not Bruce?" Clark asked quietly as he carefully made his way closer to Bruce before he continued.

" I know I am safe with you, you won't hurt me Bruce."

These words, so softly spoken, where like a bomb going off inside Bruce's head as he stared at Clark in disbelief. There was a beat of stunned silence and then Bruce spoke before he could stop himself.

" I've already hurt you Clark."

There was another beat of charged silence before Clark spoke.

" Bruce, what are you..." He began to say, but trailed off when understanding crossed his handsome features.

" Bruce." Clark said softly and Bruce couldn't bare it.

Bruce turned away wanting to make a hasty retreat when Clark was suddenly there, pressed up against his back with his arms going gently around Bruce's front. The hold could have been way tighter, but Clark seemed to be trying to be extra gentle. Bruce put up a half-hearted struggle, to which Clark just tightened his hold a little. Bruce looked down at Clark's large hand splayed across the center of his chest, right over his heart. It made him instantly remember the awful nightmare he had had of this same hand easily reaching in and ripping his heart out. Bruce was now wishing that what had been his nightmare had been his actual fate, anything was better than the shame and guilt eating at him like acid now.

" Hey come on, Bruce please come on look at me." Clark insisted as he gently turned Bruce to face him.

The older man had gone pale, his dark eyes holding a stricken, haunted quality to them.

" Bruce, you have to know I am not angry with about how we fought before. Luthor played us both and I should have tried harder to explain things to you instead of losing my temper like I did." Clark declared firmly.

" I should have listened." Bruce said, shaking his head in self-disgust.

" Damn it Clark, I spent years hating you, blaming you, wanting to end you. I let my anger blind me to what Luthor was doing to manipulate us. I had made up my mind that you were some evil monster that needed to be put down before you destroyed everything. I beat you to shit and I was about to murder you and instead of begging me to stop, you used whatever seconds you had left to _ask me to save your mother, to_ _help_. Even then I just stood there screaming at you and hurting you with the Kryptonite. I probably would have gone through with killing you if Lois hadn't gotten there when she did."

Bruce said all of this with a tight stoicism. He wasn't breaking apart at the seems, his eyes were clear of tears, but Clark would have preferred that instead of seeing Bruce with such deep self-loathing and detachment.

Clark reached out to Bruce, who flinched back. With a sigh Clark spoke.

" Bruce, you came through when it mattered. You listened when it mattered the most. My mother is alive and well today because you kept your promise."

" You still died." Bruce began to say when Clark cut him off.

" I did, and that was because of Luthor and Doomsday, not you." He said firmly as he pulled off his glasses and tucked them into one of the pockets of his hoodie.

" I had you breath in lung-fulls of Kryptonite gas." Bruce argued, unable to help but take in Clark without his glasses, his disguise.

" And the United States Government full on nuked me Bruce." Clark countered before he sighed.

" I got put through the wringer by a whole bunch of people Bruce, what happened doesn't fall squarely on your shoulders." He finished.

Bruce opened his mouth, most likely to keep arguing, but Clark was well and truly done. Bruce let out a startled grunt as Clark became a blur of movement and was on him, holding Bruce's face in his hands and looking determined.

" You've been beating yourself up for what happened all this time, thinking you're still the bad guy. Even after you saved my mother's life and helped me end Doomsday, even after you paid for my damn funeral and called Ma every week to make sure she was doing alright. Even after taking such good care of me when I showed up here two months ago. You were there to pick up the phone whenever me or Ma called you to vent about how we were feeling. You are still beating yourself up over it. Well I am telling you enough is enough Bruce. You did the right thing when it mattered most and that's what counts to me. I need to say this and you need to hear it." Clark said before he leaned in and pressed his forehead to Bruce's, the older man's eyes fluttering at the contact despite still trying to be stoic.

" I forgave you the moment you promised me that Martha wouldn't die that night. I thought you knew, but I'll just say it to you now Bruce. I forgive you, I truly forgive you so please, please forgive yourself."

Bruce shut his eyes for a moment, Clark's words hitting him hard before he breathed out through his nostrils and shook his head against Clark's.

" I don't think I'll ever fully be able to forgive myself Clark." Bruce said honestly.

Clark looked at Bruce sadly, but nodded his head in understanding against Bruce's forehead as he spoke.

" Okay, that's okay Bruce but you have to move on from it at least. Please don't shut us out Bruce, not when you matter so much to us... to me." Clark said softly as he lightly ran his thumbs along the arches of Bruce's cheekbones.

There was a beat of silence before Bruce slowly reached up and wrapped his hands around Clark's wrists. He didn't pull the other man's hands off, just held them loosely as he gazed at him.

There was so much Bruce wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask, but the words just wouldn't come.

Clark stayed silent as he watched Bruce struggle with himself, the older man gritting his teeth and looking so deeply conflicted. Then Bruce let out this soft breath and then something in the already charged air between them shifted. With a low growl Bruce suddenly surged forward and smashed his mouth over Clark's. Clark stood stunned for a moment before he was melted against Bruce in joyful relief, wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck and shoulders as he fervently returned Bruce's kiss.

Once their lips touched again, Bruce was hooked. He took control and did his utmost to plunder the young man's mouth, feeling Clark's warmth against him and reveling in the fact that the younger man was alive and in his arms.

Not even his most perfect dream could come close to having the real thing right now, here in his arms.

Bruce tucked his hands under Clark's hoodie, yanking and pulling at it till he had Clark free from it. It fell forgotten to the floor as Bruce and Clark started stumbling across the house towards the bedroom.

More clothes started littering the floor as they went so that by the time Bruce shoved Clark onto his large, king sized bed they were only separated by Bruce's sweat pants and Clark's undergarments.

Clark's eyes widened as he took in the vivid, reddish purple bruises that had formed over Bruce's own impressive body. He had already seen the state of the older man's hands and used his x-ray vision to see the thankfully not too serious internet damage, but now he was seeing Bruce's injuries on full display.

Clark was about to maybe call this off, tell Bruce they could stop if he was in too much pain, but Bruce held a finger to Clark's lips, silencing him as he spoke.

" It's just some bruises, I am fine Clark." He said, his voice rough with desire and his dark eyes almost black.

Clark nodded, and then with a mischievous glint in his crystalline blue eyes, the Kryptonian parted his lips and took Bruce's finger into his mouth. Bruce felt like he had molted hot lava unfurling in the pit his stomach at the sight and sensation of Clark doing this. With a low growl, Bruce yanked his hand way from Clark's mouth and then lunged forward, claiming the younger man's mouth once more. While they enjoyed the kiss, Clark and Bruce's hands each sought out the other's remaining article of clothing. Bruce rumbled in approval as Clark's hands snaked under the waistband of his sweatpants while Clark moaned against Bruce's lips when one of Bruce's hands snaked under the waistband of his boxer briefs at the front and caressed the heated flesh there, while Bruce's other hand snaked under the waistband at the back to firmly squeeze his buttock.

Soon a pair of sweatpants and a pair of boxer briefs were falling to the floor beside the bed, leaving their owners with no more physical barriers between them.

" Oh God." Bruce groaned as he pressed his bare body against Clark.

Clark couldn't even speak as he gasped and writhed against Bruce, his every heightened sense overwhelmed by just the feel of the other man alone. Breathing hard, Clark leaned up and started kissing and biting at Bruce's neck and throat, earning a soft noise of approval from the older man who reached up and buried his fingers into Clark's dark curls, pulling him in closer while he used his other hand to rake his nailed over the side of Clark's ribcage.

They shared another deep kiss before Clark flipped them over as if Bruce weighed nothing.

" C-Clark." Bruce whispered as he gazed up at Clark who was straddling him.

Clark leaned down and pressed a kiss to Bruce's lips before he sat back up and then positioned himself. Bruce's eyes grew wide, and the breath left his body as Clark lowered himself down onto Bruce at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Clark let out a soft, pained breath as he pressed his hands to Bruce's heaving chest, being mindful of the still fresh bruising all over the older man, and kept moving until he and Bruce were fully connected in this most intimate way.

As Clark began to slowly move his hips and groan, Bruce watched on mesmerized by the sight, his hands going to Clark's sharp hipbones seemingly of their own volition. Clark was a sight to behold, that breathtaking body heaving and writing above him, the powerful muscles coiling and rippling beneath his pale skin. Then Bruce's eyes fell on the center of Clark's chest and his own heart gave a painful lurch. There, standing out against the smooth planes of Clark's skin was the jagged, crescent shaped scar, the lasting reminder of the awful thing that happened.

Bruce let go of one of Clark's hips and trailed his fingers up Clark's quivering and rippling stomach to finally come to rest over the scar, a sadness flickering in his dark eyes. Clark passed in his movements to gaze down at Bruce's hand. With a small hum, Clark gazed down at Bruce, looking him square in the eye as he reached up and covered Bruce's hand with one of his. He twined their fingers together and brought Bruce's hand up to his lips, planting kisses on the calloused fingers and palm before placing Bruce's hand flat on his chest again. Bruce watched with another wave of want cascading through him as Clark began to slowly trail their joined hands down his front, until he stopped them just passed his naval.

" I can see clear through things Bruce. I can see us as we are now. This is where you are right now. Look how deep you are." Clark said with a soft, breathy moan.

Bruce felt his mouth hang open, his brain short-circuited by Clark's softly spoke words. Then something inside him snapped as with an inhuman growl Bruce wrenched himself up into sitting position and seized Clark by the hips and yanked down on them, tilting his own hips upward at the same time.

Clark's ragged scream echoed through the whole house as Bruce pulled in him deeper.

" Oh!" Clark breathed as Bruce mouthed and kissed at the scar on his chest, the older man's hands almost vice-like. Clark knew that had he been human, his skin would be bruising under Bruce's grips. The younger man could not help but feel a stab of disappointment, because he actually wanted Bruce to bruise and mark him up. But all thought rapidly fled Clark's mind as Bruce hooked the back of his neck and brought his head down, biting a trail up his throat before claiming his mouth in another searing kiss.

As they seemed like they were both trying to devour the other, Bruce showed off his own strength as he wrapped his arms tightly around Clark and then pulled him down and expertly rolled them so that he was now on top.

They broke apart with a gasp and just laid there like that, intwined in the most intimate way. Bruce's eyes were black with passion, and Clark's nearly matched since his pupils were blown wide, leaving only a pair of thin circles of clear blue visible.

Clark writhed and groaned under Bruce, but the other man lay still, just staring at Clark and breathing hard.

" I don't want to hurt you Clark." Bruce said quietly, almost whispering it.

Clark smiled up at Bruce and then reached to cup his cheek as he shook his head and spoke.

" You won't, you _won't_."

It stuck Bruce that Clark said "won't" rather than "can't". Bruce knew full well that without Kryptonite in sight, the man he was currently making love to was invulnerable. He literally couldn't hurt Clark, but Clark said that he wouldn't.

" Stop thinking so much Bruce." Clark admonished with a quirk of his lips before he pressed his lips to the corner of Bruce's mouth before he leaned up further to speak directly into the older man's ear.

" I trust you Bruce, so stop hesitating and take what I want you to have." His gritted out.

These words were all that were needed to finally shatter Bruce's self-restraint. With a low rumble, Bruce shoved Clark back down onto the bed and smashed his mouth into the Kryptonian's while drawing his hips back till he had nearly pulled all the way out before he surged forward with unbridled force.

Clark let out a muffled cry against Bruce's mouth as he wrapped his legs around Bruce and met the other man's movements. Bruce wrenched his mouth away from Clark's and started attacking the younger man's neck and shoulders. Bruce was biting so hard his teeth would have broken through ordinary skin, but all they did to Clark was make him writhe and make such wanton noises, they spurred Bruce to bit harder and thrust deeper.

Bruce was ruined, as he moved with Clark, this was all he could think, that he was _completely ruined_ for anyone else, man, woman, or otherwise. Body, mind, and soul.

It all belonged to Clark.

As the minutes wore on, the noises from the occupants on the bed grew steadily louder and louder, and more desperate until they finally reached a crescendo.

" Bruce." Clark whispered, his voice robbed of him as he fell over the edge into white, hot ecstasy.

Clark clenching around him was all Bruce needed to topple over into release himself.

" C-Clark!" Bruce choked out before his own vision went white.

They lay together stiff as they rode out the waves of unmatched pleasure rolling over them, until their bodies lost all tension and then fell together in a debauched, boneless heap of tangled limbs and expensive bedsheets.

Clark looked up and Bruce, and Bruce looked down at Clark, their foreheads pressed together as they simply laid there and just breathed.

 _About and hour later..._

Bruce grumbled in annoyance, his now fulling aching, bruised body protesting as he was gently pulled to his feet.

" C'mon, a hot shower will do us both some good." Clark declared as he got a somnolent Bruce out of bed.

With the well-soiled sheets wrapped around them, Bruce and Clark made their way into Bruce's spacious master bathroom.

" Geez, this thing's almost as big as my whole apartment." Clark commented as he took in the sleek, modern design and fixtures. It fit well with the rest of the house.

Bruce allowed himself a snort of amusement before he shuffled his way over to the large, forest green-tiled standing shower. He pulled the bedsheets free and left them on the bathroom floor before he stepped into the shower. Bruce then looked over his shoulder at Clark who was still standing by the sink with the bedsheets he had wrapped around himself.

Clark felt his mouth go dry at the way Bruce was looking at him. It was not some lustful, come hither look, but a simple, quiet invitation to a shower and closeness. In the literal blink of an eye, Clark was across the room and in the shower with Bruce, his bed sheet joining Bruce's as the older man pressed on the touch panel.

Within moments, Clark and Bruce had a deluge of perfectly hot water cascading down on them.

Bruce stood there with the water feeling heavenly against his bruised and batter skin, but his attention was focused solely on Clark. The Kryptonian stood beneath the spray with his head tilted back and his eyes closes, a small smile of enjoyment on his face.

He looked like something straight out of a dream and Bruce could not help but admire. Then he got caught in his staring as Clark opened his eyes and titled his head too look at him with his clear blue eyes dark and warm. Without saying a word, Clark stepped across the distance between them and reached out for Bruce.

He wrapped his arms around the older man's waist, Bruce putting up no resistance as he reached up and wrapped his arms around Clark's shoulders in turn. They came together in a deep kiss beneath the torrent, the frenzy of before replaced with quiet intimacy.

 _Half an hour and one long and thorough shower later..._

Bruce sighed and stared off at nothing with hooded eyes as he gave himself over to Clark's gentle ministrations. After they had cleaned themselves of their earlier couple and enjoyed the hot shower, Clark had taken it upon himself to pamper Bruce to his Kryptonian heart's content. Bruce had tried to protest but it had fallen on deaf ears as Clark had first tidied up the place and replaced the bedsheets in a flurry of super-speed before practically manhandling Bruce into bed and asking the seasoned vigilante is he had any cream or ointment to treat the vivid bruises that littered his body.

Bruce had confirmed that he had something and then directed lark to the bathroom medicine cabinet where he kept a container of this highly potent concoction of exotic medicinal plants and rare oils that Bruce had learned to make from a shaman he had met while traveling the mountains of Algeria.

Clark had returned with a small glass jar of greenish-white emollient. Clark sat down astride Bruce and began applying the cream to the bruises Bruce had on his chest that were now a combination of the injuries the older man had sustained from his harrowing fight with Poison Ivy and the marks that Clark himself had left with his teeth and his hands. Bruce's protests that Clark need not have done this for him were swallowed up by Clark tenderly kissing him into silence.

Now Bruce lay on his from with Clark gently tending to his back and shoulders, where Bruce had the largest bruises. Bruce groaned softly and let his eyes fall shut as Clark gently massaged the cream into his shoulders. The emollient absorbed completely into Bruce's skin, not leaving behind and greasy residue. It numbed the dull ache and soothed the ruptured blood vessels under Bruce's skin. Bruce also wordlessly reveled in just the feel of Clark's hands, strong enough to tear through solid steel like it was tissue paper, and test just as equally compassionate as they were now, tending to his bruised and battered body.

Inevitably Clark finished tending to Bruce by carefully rubbing the cream onto Bruce's beat-up knuckles before he was gone with a swish of air to the bathroom to replace the jar. They he was back to Bruce, climbing into bed with him.

" Thank you." Bruce said quietly as he and Clark lay facing each other, Clark draping his arm around Bruce's waist while Bruce lightly pressed his knuckles across the crescent shaped scar on Clark's chest.

" Don't mention it." Clark said quietly before he tightened his hold around Bruce and pulled him in close, again subtly displaying his extraordinary strength.

Bruce sighed as he leaned across and pressed his forehead to Clark's as he spoke.

" Clark, I am sorry for what I said before." He said, eying the sad look that flitted across Clark's face before a warm, genuine smile turned up the corners of his lips as the younger man spoke.

" Just be glad I didn't bring Ma along, if you had tried any of the bull-cockery with her..." Clark trailed off, the implication of his words clear and Bruce found himself smiling back softly at Clark before he could stop himself.

Bruce reached out and wrapped his arm around Clark in turn, burying his hand into Clark's soft, dark curls. Clark gazed at Bruce with promise in his striking blue eyes and Bruce understood.

Things were far from settled between them. They still had much to talk about and work through, but now the very chance that they even could was there because Clark had flown in all the way from Kansas with a basket of baked goods and the determination to break through Bruce's self-imposed isolation.

As they lay there warm and sated, it didn't take long for Clark to drift off to sleep. But for Bruce, sleep did not come so easily despite his utter exhaustion. As he stared at Clark's serene countenance, his guilty mind conjured images of this same face slack in death, those blue eyes glazed and unseeing, everything surrounded by smoldering destruction.

Bruce shut his eyes and willed the horrid memories away and instead focused on Clark sleeping, breathing, alive.

This young man, who he had horribly misjudged, had sought him out after clawing his way out of his own grave. He didn't go to his mother, or the woman he would have at one time married, Clark had come to him. The thought of this alone, that Clark had come to _him_ , made something in Bruce both swell and bleed.

As he finally began to drift off, Bruce tightened his hold around Clark, letting the other man's warmth lull him all the way into peaceful sleep, something Bruce rarely ever got.

Bruce had wanted the darkness to swallow him up, fitting punishment for his trespasses against Clark. Funny thing was, the person he had wanted to punish himself for hurting and almost ending had a particular bias against that, Clark kept pulling him towards the light. Clark had done this when he had sacrificed himself, restoring Bruce's faith that men were still good, and he had done so again tonight.

Dawn would break soon and when it did, he, Clark, and Alfred would all enjoy some of the baked goods Martha had sent over, and maybe Bruce would finally ask Clark about something that had interested him for months.

How the hell did Superman shave?

 **The End.**


End file.
